


Home

by atenea



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Leon and his cursing, M/M, and D and his existentialist questions, that rub off on Leon somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenea/pseuds/atenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after leaving, home became many things for Leon. He's also wondered many times what'd be like to meet D again. He imagined yelling and catching up. Possibly a punch or two, but whatever he had in mind, it did not include a tea parlor in Prague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I promised Ladle to write something about Petshop about a month ago but I suck and take forever at writing in English, so consider this an apology.  
> As of the location, I've been known to deal with stuff by not actually dealing with it, and one of those things is Prague. If there is a place in the world in which it seems like anything worthy of a psoh tale could happen, that place is Prague, so it had to take place in Prague (at least in my head).

Years after leaving, for Leon home became train stations, airports, harbors, railroads, streets, bars, and many other things he can't even begin to talk about, like other people who were looking for answers, animals that didn't talk but still communicated with him somehow (like that weird alley cat in Manchester that he nicknamed Whiskers) and animals that most definitely _did_ talk (like that wallaby that reminded him of Jill back in Victoria(1)) and many other things. L.A. used to be home and for a very brief moment, not that he will admit this out loud to anyone, D used to be home too.

Leon's never had any clear image of what'd be like to meet D again.

He imagined it'd include yelling (lots of it, actually) and catching up (because who else was he gonna tell about the crazy stuff he's seen in the last seven years if not?).

Mostly, he's just thought of punching him in the throat. Repeatedly.

"Your tea is getting cold, Detective"

Whatever he has imagined, it certainly does not include a tea parlor in Czech Republic.

Leon's been looking at him for what feels like a whole minute, still a bit in shock. He's certain it's him but there's at least a million reasons it shouldn't be. D talks again, pointedly, like addressing a problematic child.

"Detective—".

Definitely punching him in the throat, Leon decides.

"'name's Leon" he interrupts.

"... your tea" the rest of the sentence sounds softer but D looks reproachful.

 _To hell with tea!_ Leon thinks. 

"Why are you here?"

He asks. It's the first whole sentence he's uttered since D approached him in that old-ass bridge infested with tourists(2) and he's surprised he can deliver it half as calmly as he does, because Leon can assure you he does not feel anything remotely similar to _calm_ right now _._  

D drinks a bit from his teacup and Leon's sure he's doing it just to mess with him. Leon's patience is deteriorating by the second.

"The Czechs aren't precisely known for their tea but I must say, I do like their take with this—"

"Why. are. you. here." he repeats, making a pause between every word for emphasis.

D doesn't take well being interrupted for a second time.

"Of all the _rude ways to—"_

But then again, Leon doesn't give a damn about what D likes or doesn't. 

"Answer the damn question, will you?" his voice sounds sharper than he intends to and he feels a little tiny bit like apologizing but he won't. It's been ten years since L.A. and seven since Morocco, D does not get to feel outraged at manners when he's pretty sure disappearing without a word and making him (and everyone around him) question his sanity after pushing him off a fucking flying ship (of all things) is the epitome of rudeness.

D looks at him reproachful, but does not yell and Leon takes that as a small victory.

"I see time has done nothing to amend your language" D sighs exasperatedly "Or your temper" he adds "I could ask the same question, don't you think?"

No, Leon doesn't and he's sure his face shows he is equals parts as confused for the remark as he is angry at this whole situation. Leon should have guessed something like this would happen. _Leave it to the Chinese bastard to reappear out of thin air just like nothing's happened after ten years. I shouldn't even be surprised_.

"Prague, Detective?" D continues, more conversationally "I confess I'm curious to know what would have prompted such... decision" a beat "A girlfriend at last, perhaps?" it's a barely audible whisper, probably never meant for anyone else but D himself, but Leon does hear it.

And that's _it._

"Decisions. _Right._ Let's talk about decisions then. Let's talk about how you decided to throw me from a flying ship —Ships are _not_ supposed to fly, by the way—. I've been _dying_ to know the insight of that decision".

His voice raises and he knows that he's talking like a madman but he has to point out the ship part because he did not spend three years travelling to every main city with a port and a sizable Chinese community between Asia and Africa in a merchant ship (a real one that did not fly) for nothing, but his resolution to be mad at D flakes a bit when he sees it. It's quick and Leon has barely enough time to notice but he's sure something flashes in D's eyes for a fraction of seconds before they go back to being annoyingly unreadable _._

He silently asks himself just _why_ can he still notice stuff like that about D.

"You know why I did that" D says, quietly.

And the thing is, Leon really wants to keep being angry at D, but he does know D's right about that one, whether he like it or not.

"Why are you here?" he asks again, this time not as firmly. D fixes his gaze on his teacup.

"I must confess, you still surprise me, Mr. Detec—" Leon has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Leon" he interrupts, but D chooses to ignore it this time.

"You searched for years because you had questions." he pauses, then adds, more to himself than to Leon "Questions whose answers you already knew, of course," and then there it is again "and yet" Leon sees the mask slips a bit once more, eyes shine a bit brighter, but D composes himself quickly again. There's something different about him but Leon isn't sure what is it "yet here you are" he finishes.

"Isn't this what you wanted though?" Leon asks. It sounds harsh and resentful and there is something akin to hurt that resonates in the back of his throat, but he pretends it's just his imagination.

He also tries to convince himself he doesn't feel any remorse for answering like that when D looks at him like a kicked puppy.

He knows they're not talking about _this_ anymore, this is not about D scaring him half to death in that tourist monstrosity of a bridge between Malá Strana and Staré Město(3), this right here, somewhere in the labyrinthine streets that surround Saint Nicholas Cathedral. _This_ is an entirely different matter, that begun when Leon avoided what looked like a very familiar petshop in Morocco's _Quartier Chinois_. It's about Leon not even bothering to look in Johannesburg's Chinatowns (neither the new nor the old one), or Ghana's, or Calcutta's. It's about that time Leon was drunk off his ass in Madrid, roughly a year ago, when a group of equally drunk college students sat with him at that small corner bar in Malasaña, took him to Cibeles to see that stupid kiddy parade(4) and Leon thought he saw a pair of bicolor eyes among the hyperactive kids and tired parents. It's about how Leon turned his attention back to the college girl, the one with pretty brown eyes and very long messy hair, that took his hand in an attempt to make him hurry to their next destination. He tried to dismiss the incident as just his imagination but his gut knew better than that.

D smiles at him, and Leon notices, a bit startled, that it's the first time he's done so since they've met. His shoulders seem to fall, and Leon recognized the something he couldn't quite get from the past glimpses of the not-quite-mask slipping away.

D looks sad.

"Your tea is getting cold"

And he also sounds weary. The realization makes his mouth feel dry.

Leon does roll his eyes this time before taking a sip of the damned tea and furrow his eyebrows when he notices it's exactly how he used to drink it back in Los Angeles. Black, no sugar, no milk, just a touch of lemon. It occurs to him, when he's taking a second sip, that maybe he's not the only one who has troubles trying to forget things.

Which, actually, would explain a lot.

Leon marvels in silence at the realization for a moment before notices that neither has said a word in a while. He takes a deep breath. _What the hell... There's nothing to lose I guess_.

"Why did you leave?" Leon asks, and he looks down at his teacup as soon as the words are out.

It's the first question he even wanted to make him. The real questions, not the ones about the murder cases, the questions that used to hurt him when he thought of it late at night, feeling miserable the first few years of his wild goose chase over the world. There's another silence and Leon is half scared that D has disappeared again but sure enough, he's right there in front of him when he looks up, which Leon almost wishes he hadn't done, because D looks like he's struggling and he's doing a pathetic job at pretending he's not. 

D's just managed to open his mouth when Leon reaches across the ancient wood table and touches his wrist. It's just a light touch, barely even there, D looks surprised and more than a little bit conflicted, but doesn't flinch away from it.

So, Leon isn't going to punch him in the throat after all. Probably.

It doesn't matter, it never did, really. D was right, he did have his answers. It just took him a while to realize it and he said as much. D furrows his brow again.

"If it's not answers that you're looking for, what is it then?"

D looks confused. Leon doesn't really blame him because he himself isn't even sure of the answer to that one.

Once upon a time, in a cold night in Antwerp after almost catching D in Berlin, all he wanted was to go back home but that didn't make much sense because, as Leon later realized, he doesn't really have one. Home used to be San Francisco when he was a kid growing up with his single mother and after his mother's funeral, in an attempt to put as much distance as he could with his mother's sister and her family (that now included Leon's brand new baby brother) who lived in New York, home then became Los Angeles. For a while it used to be D and Chris (and Jill sometimes) and it didn't make much sense but the thing is that it felt _right_ somehow, and there weren't many thing that felt right for Leon after the funeral and he had learnt to live with that, but Chris and D did make sense, even with all the fights and the tea and the weird shit (that Leon tried very hard to convince himself were just fragments of his imagination) and Jill making fun of him like it was her goddamned job. Then there was that fucking flying ship that wasn't supposed to fly and D and his fucking insane family that didn't seem to age and falling and falling and _falling._ And then all of it hurt and Leon knew L.A. wasn't home anymore, so there really was no home to go back to.

For a while all he wanted was answers, but as time came he noticed he didn't really need them. Jill never quite believed him when he told her D was alive but she helped him get everything ready to go away, she thought he was traveling because he was looking for something since, according to her, most people do. Leon had no idea of what she meant till he made it to Morocco. It wasn't a grand realization either, not much unlike the realization of D missing their tea time in Los Angeles, in fact. Soon all that made sense was wandering. Just that. Wandering and meeting people when there was people to meet and talking to animals when there were animals to talk to and seeing places and learning weird-ass languages and just being and Leon doesn't really know _how_ to stop or if he ever _should_.

In retrospective, Leon thinks that all he looked for was for things to make sense.

_But they never do, do they?_

He thinks the question again. What are you looking for now?

"That doesn't really matter, does it?"

D's looking at him intently and he feels D's hand leaning a bit into his and it's comforting somewhat. Leon thinks the place is growing warm, but he doesn't know how because he's sure it is still doing thirty degrees outside, at most(5).

"I honestly had to leave" D says. He looks at Leon like he's hoping against hope that he'll understand and, all things considered, Leon thinks he kinda does. If there anything Leon understands after all these years, it's that leaving is the only thing that makes sense sometimes.

He seems to struggle to find words to continue, this whole talking thing (as in real talking, without the pretenses, the snobbishness or the metaphors to distract the other party) is obviously new for D. Leon doesn't like to see him struggle with it as much as he expected he would and squeezes gently on D's hand; he hopes D understands too.

"I have something for you"

Leon retrieves his hand to reach for his wallet and takes Chris' drawing from it. It's been folded, creased and a has turned bit yellow on the corners, Leon has thought many times that he should have it framed but he never does, ostensibly because there is no way to fit a frame in his knapsack without breaking it, but really just because he just likes to look at it from time to time. He unfolds it and leaves it at the table, close enough for D to reach. D takes it with both hands, delicately. The sheet of paper doesn't let Leon see his eyes but he doesn't need to.

"... Thank you"

It's soft and almost breathless, it makes Leon feel things he has rather studiously avoided to think about for a long while but he does realize something interesting.

Maybe, after all, Leon still wishes to go back home, wherever that is. D puts the drawing down and looks at him with so many contained emotions that Leon doesn't know how to start.

"Mr. Detect—"

And Leon has to roll his eyes again.

"Leon. It's Leon. I'm not a cop anymore, D. I promise you my name isn't cursed, it will not kill you to use it"

Whatever sign of vulnerability Leon might have seen before in his eyes were gone in seconds. There's an amused spark in D's eyes as he bites his lip and Leon is quite certain that that shouldn't be allowed to look as pretty as it does.

"Also I did miss you too, you know" he continues. "You didn't need to scare me shitless back there, just so you know, the statues of the bridge do that perfectly fine without your help" he adds "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you, why are we here, exactly?"

D seems to be having an awful lot of fun watching him babble.

"We're here to have tea, of course"

D doesn't confirm that he missed him but doesn't deny it either and he doesn't need to. Leon doesn't even remember the last time he smiled like this. He's sure he must look like an idiot.

Years after leaving, home became train stations, and airports, and harbors, and railroads, and streets, and bars, and people who were still looking for answers, and animals that didn't talk but still communicated with him somehow and animals that most definitely did talk, and lonely people, and sad looking mountains, and vibrant rainforests and many more things that Leon can't even begin to talk about.

L.A. and D used to be home too.

The only thing is that, for Leon, D still means home and maybe, just maybe, Leon means the same for D.

They do catch up. Leon tells him about the wallaby in Victoria (and how he thought he had finally lost his marbles and decided it was high time to leave Australia before anyone else noticed) and the time he made it to the Angel's Fall (and made an Anaconda incredibly angry without meaning to but came back in one piece to tell the tale). D tells him that, despite myths and stories, Anacondas do not eat people. He also talks about meeting his cat friend from Manchester (who didn't appreciate Leon nicknaming him Whiskers but remembered him otherwise fondly). By the time they leave the place it's late at night and he doesn't even notice when D takes his hand till they are back in the bridge. There is no one there and Leon thought it'd look creepier but, to his surprise, it's never looked prettier to him.

He would notice, much later when he thinks about that night, that nothing has ever made more sense in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Insignificant details that I saw fit to share:  
> 1\. I just recently discovered that adult female wallabies are sometimes referred to as jills. I am so sorry, but I had to mention Jill. By the time Leon left L.A. she thought Leon was just in the Denial phase of grief and, in a way, he kind of was.  
> 2\. Karlův most. It's a gothic bridge that crosses the Moldau river (I am sure that's the name of the river in German and almost sure it's also it's name in English, but I don't know, it's called Vltava in Czech if anyone cares). It used to be the main connection point between Prague's Castle and the Old town (Staré Město, the oldest part of the city) and it's decorated with baroque statues (that I particularly find a bit creepy, specially when it's late at night).  
> 3\. Malá Strana literally means Little Side, it's in the slope just below Prague's Castle and is smaller than Staré Mesto. It's where most of the noblemen palaces used to be while Staré Město used to be populated by the bourgeoisie. St. Nicholas Cathedral is in Malá Strana. The tea parlor D and Leon are in is supposed to be is located in Malá Strana as well because it'd suit D to know a tea parlor in an old nobleman's palace (not that there's any, as far as I know).  
> 4\. The Cavalcade of the Magi is a traditional parade that is celebrated the 5th of January (the day before the feast of Epiphany) in some places and it's huge in Spain (Christmas gifts were traditionally exchanged on that day instead of the 24th of December). The children and -miserable looking- parents gather around to see it in an often inclement weather (it's cold and it rains almost every year) as the kids scream and get excited at being thrown candy. The next day is a national holiday so more often than not, when the kids go home after the parade, the young adults go out to drink and party. Leon is drinking in Malasaña which is close to the long avenue the parade takes place.  
> 5\. For anyone outside of the states, if it doesn't make any sense to for it to be cold at 30 degrees, that's because it doesn't. Old habits die hard and Leon still thinks of the temperature in Fahrenheit. 30ºF is -1ºC.


End file.
